Words of Logic
by EsskayXRhiannon
Summary: After a misunderstanding and some unfortunate choice of words, Nyota is angry at Spock. Post movie.


**Timeline:** Post movie. The Enterprise is on her five year mission (which starts sooner than in the original timeline)

**Disclaimer:** We do not own the characters, unfortunately.

**A/N:**

1. Unbeta'ed due to lack of a beta reader at the moment. If you want to do it feel free to apply :)

2. This ficlet is an 'outtake' from our twitter roleplay. If you are interested feel free to follow StrictlyLogical, Language_Lover, StrictlyBones (yes he IS making fun of me), HeroForTheAges (or should I say Captain show off?) and Lt_Braveheart

However, the fic can be read as stand alone as well even if you have no clue about what happened in the role play. It is just a glimpse into their every day life.

**Special Thanks** go to StarTrekFanWriter because her story 'Descartes Error' influenced our view on both the characters and their relationships. Certain concepts she introduced (or that we read in her fics first) were just too good to ignore and sort of became canon for us (like the telepathic link – no full mind meld - Spock and Uhura use to share basic emotions).

_Further notes on the background: Spock corrected Nyota a couple of times (on Twitter, but you can actually ignore the fact that it's on twitter, it still makes sense even if it had been in a conversation with several participants.) In jest, because normally when he does that, when they're alone and ideally share a telepathic link, she knows he only does it to trigger an emotional reaction: her laughing. This time, however, she did not get it. _

_They are currently exploring a yet undiscovered part of the galaxy and found stelar clouds and asteroid fields._

------

He knew something was wrong, and he hadn't even needed to see her face. And Spock was roughly 95 % sure that he had caused whatever negative emotions she was currently experiencing. As she had told him via text message, he had not 'wasted any time waiting'. He had analysed the findings on radiation in the stellar system they were currently passing and had scanned the space for interstellar clouds that would support the theory on new star formations. So far, there were none to observe and he had to wait for new input to be evaluated.

It was therefore not disturbing his work when he decided to go find Nyota and ask her what had caused her irritation. At 16:00, he left the lab and took the turbolift to the deck the mess hall was located on. There was a statistical probability of 72 % for her having a snack on her fifteen minute break, and it appeared to be more prudent to catch her on her way rather than directly on the bridge. His hands behind his back, his eyes scanned the mostly empty corridor, and after exactly 47 seconds he spotted her, walking down in his direction, her long black pony tail swinging with her steps.

He shifted infinitesimally on the balls of his feet, inhaling slightly in order to make the appropriate greeting for the time of day. As he prepared to speak to her, he observed that her body language had changed when she came within 15 meters of his location. Instead of the usual, relaxed stance she displayed when in his presence, Nyota's shoulders had tensed and her hands were clasped by her sides, 3.5 seconds after she had noticed him waiting for her. As he waited for her to approach he mentally altered his planned greeting to include a query regarding the source of her tension.

"Nyota, your behaviour indicates that you are angered about something. Could you please clarify?" he asked calmly, his eyes fixed on hers. He wanted to reach out to touch her so he could link with her and know what exactly she was feeling. Even after all this time it was difficult to seperate the different kinds of negative emotions with all their layers by just having her facial features as indicator.

Nyota stopped 1.8 meters away from him, out of his arm's reach. She was avoiding his gaze, her eyes focused approximately 8 centimeters above his right shoulder. "Commander, do you have a query regarding my work on the transmissions?" she replied, in a flat emotionless tone. Spock realised that she had moved her hands from her sides to mirror his body stance; feet apart and hands clasped behind her back.

Although there must be an explanation and also a solution for whatever caused her unusually distanced attitude Spock, ever the analytic and practical, did not know how to proceed, and whatever option he thought of it did not appear to be ideal, as long as he couldn't _feel _her. "Did you receive any transmissions?" he asked then, sticking to the facts the only immediate response that currently seemed possible.

"No, Commander. I received no transmissions." she replied. He saw her gaze flick to his face for exactly 2 seconds before it returned to the area above his shoulders, her lips pressed tightly together. He watched her bite her lip before she spoke again. "If that will be all, Commander, or would you like to lecture me some more on my lack of precision?"

As she said this, Nyota stepped backwards and turned her back on him, turning her head away so quickly that Spock heard her ponytail whistle through the air. She mumbled something he couldn't quite decipher before striding quickly away in the direction of the bridge.

Clearly, this conversation had not turned out like he had expected it to. He had not yet seen her in such an upset and even hostile state, and he didn't have to be human to understand that, clearly, something was very wrong. He reviewed all their previous conversations and text messages of the last twenty-four hours, after the last occasion he was sure about she had felt happy and content. But after that they had not shared a telepathic connection, and it was difficult to estimate when her infuriation had started and due to what reason. Was it him having accidentally woken her up by leaving her quarters last night? Or him telling her that she need not apologize to Lieutenant Commander McCoy on his behalf – he had only meant to relieve her of an unnecessary obligation? Or had it only started four hours and twenty-seven minutes ago when he had corrected her inaccurate time statement – something that, combined with him raising one eyebrow, had made her laugh on various occasions?

He did not know, and no matter how often he replayed the secenarios, no logic and analytic means could help him solve this puzzle. Eliminating these options as ineffective, he knew the only one that would lead to a satisfactory result was getting into her mind and then responding to whatever she was upset about, clearing up what obviously must be a misunderstanding on her part because he did not mean to offend or even hurt her.

It was logical to wait and try this approach in the opportune moment. Logical and promising.

Only why did he _feel _so lost now?

-----

It was the second time within the last 11 hours and fifty-two minutes Spock went to talk to Nyota, and he could not be certain whether he would succeed clearing up their misunderstanding this time or not. After the news of Ensign Paul Chester's death had reached the bridge, most of the crew had shown reactions of mourning. He had observed seven crew members being suddenly very quiet and three even shedding tears, although he believed none of them had known him well. He did not feel sadness for the loss of the unknown crew member. He had had no relationship to Ensign Chester and therefore would not miss his presence in his life, although, of course, his death was unfortunate. Yet, having lived among humans for so long, Spock knew that the death of a stranger could emotionally touch humans, remind them of the impermanence of their own existence. Therefore many of them mourned even if the loss did not directly affect them. Nyota appeared to be one of them.

She had said she needed space, and Spock had been willing to accept that, even though there was a rather illogical longing within him to be with her as quickly as possible and not wait for the right moment. And even though logic had told him to honor her wishes, he had gladly accepted Jim's and McCoy's advice to ignore her words and go talk to her.

Stopping in front of her door precisely 11 hours and fifty-five minutes after they had last spoken he entered the key code, satisfied that she had not changed it, and stepped into her dimly lit quarters.

He immediately noticed the disorganised state of her room. Clothes and personal effects were strewn across the floor, and it looked at first as though the ship had experienced extreme turbulence. Spock focused on a particular cushion, one of Nyota's favorites, lying directly at his feet, which appeared to have been squashed and thrown with some force at the door. As he stared at the cushion he became aware of a muffled noise coming from a darker corner of the room, near Nyota's bed, and slowly moved further into the room. She was sitting on the floor, her back against the wall. Her knees were pulled up towards her chest and her arms were wrapped round them, with her long hair, now loose, flowing over her legs as she lowered her head. She had not noticed him enter her quarters, and sat there weeping, rocking backwards and forwards slightly.

It surprised Spock to see her mourn so deeply for the young ensign. As far as he knew they had only spoken briefly a few times. But no matter if it was logical or not, if he could relate, seeing her like this let an instinct take over that was stronger than all rational thought. He squatted down in front of her and reached out to touch her upper arm, not yet linking with her. "Nyota," he said softly.

As his hand made contact with her arm, he felt her still and tense under his fingers. She quickly unlinked her hands from round her knees and pulled them closer to her torso, tilting her lowered face away from him. She curled tighter into herself, mumbling something so quietly that Spock had to lean in closer. "What? What do you want, now?" he heard her say before her shoulders began to shake again.

He wanted to understand her, wanted everything back the way it was before their differences had started. And most of all he wanted to hold her in his arms and for her to stop crying. But he did not know how to express all that, how to make her understand that he had not meant to hurt her.

With an odd reluctance he could not fully comprehend, his left hand reached for her temple, and he gently laid his fingertips onto her skin, needing to feel what she felt to understand.

Suddenly a maelstrom of emotions flooded through the link, too quickly for Spock to focus or identify properly. Nyota was projecting anger, sadness, hostility, regret, loss…and fear. Fear of losing something. No, some _one_ - him.

When she initially realised he had touched her temple Nyota tried to move her head away from his hand, before staying still. Though her weeping calmed a fraction, she still held herself in that almost fetal position, the only physical contact between them being his fingertips resting against her temple.

It was too much for him to comprehend, and even though he now knew her emotional state it still did not make sense for him, all just pieces of a illogical puzzle he did not know how to solve. Why would she be afraid of losing him when he had remained safely on the bridge? He had not gone to the surface of the asteroid, and so far he had not yet been ordered to do so in the future.

"Nyota, you will not lose me," he said, despite better knowledge stating the obvious because he knew sometimes humans needed verbal reassurance. And additionally he transmitted certainty and calm, determination. He would not leave her alone.

He watched as her body began to relax, the tension that had been so obvious in her starting to dissipate. Her feet shifted forwards and she lifted her face towards him so that her chin was resting on her knees. She rubbed a hand over her face, pushing hair away from her wet cheeks. Puffy eyed and flushed she eventually made eye contact with him, creases clear on her forehead and her mouth turned down from its usual position. As she stared at him silently he could feel her emotions start to settle, and though fear was still prominent, regret and shame began to push through stronger now.

It took some further insight into her mind for him to realize that she felt ashamed for how she had been treating him those past seventeen hours, and again Spock found himself not quite understanding the workings of her various emotional states. At first she had been angry at him and now she felt ashamed for it. Most peculiar. And even more so, this awareness made him feel ashamed himself, although he was not completely sure whether the emotion was his own or hers, transferred onto him through the telepathic connection.

"Nyota, what do you need?" he asked, remembering how she had done the same in a very similar situation.

She hesitated, closing her eyes tightly, as though to stop the tears that still fell onto her cheeks. With them still closed, she whispered "I just…I need… Oh Spock, I am sorry. I don't…I mean…" She stopped and opened her eyes, the dark brown irises shining as she looked at him. The fear had practically disappeared from their link, and as Nyota lifted her hand to stroke his face he felt her love for him flow through. "Hold me, Spock. Hold me and never let me go."

He felt the need to point out that he would have to let her go at some point, but this was not the time for logic. Sometimes he needed to accept the emotional, irrational side of her, giving her what she needed in that moment. And so he sat down on the floor and pulled her into his arms, holding her against his chest and letting one hand gently caress her trembling back while the other was still resting against her temple, letting her know that he was glad she did not avoid him any longer, relieved. That he wanted her happy, wanted her close... that he loved her. And he hoped she understood.

"I shouldn't have been mad at you. After what's happened today I won't ever be mad at you again. Never." As she sat in his arms, Nyota shifted slightly, her heart rate slowing to a more acceptable level. She began to giggle slightly before speaking again. "Don't say it, Spock. I know that "never" is a very long time and that there is a significant probability that I -will- be mad at you again at some point in the future. It's my way of saying sorry, and forgive me." She lifted her hand and touched the fingers he held against her temple, leaning her face against his chest. Soon, the trembling in her body faded away, and she lifted her face to his and softly kissed his lips.

He kissed her back tenderly, there was no haste in the contact, no physical desire that needed to be stilled. Just the need for emotional closeness.

"I did not mean to upset you," he said softly, leaning his forehead against hers, his eyes closed. "And I can assure you that it will never be my intention. If I did forgive me."

Her shoulders shook again, though this time no negative emotion came through the link. He heard her laughter as she took his face in her hands, and rubbed her nose against his. "Of course I forgive you, you Vulcan." She sighed. "You were just being you, Spock. I misinterpreted the texts, and I…I missed -you-, I missed this." Cupping his face in her hands she projected love and a sense of belonging towards him, the emotions intense and clear, as if she were trying to ensure he understood them completely.

And he did, although he still found it difficult to comprehend what factors had caused the changes in her emotional state. It was all based on impulse, not on rational observations and reflection and it both confused and amazed him.

'Fascinating,' he thought as he looked in her half smiling, half still frowning face.

He saw her mouth turn up into a broad smile, a radiance shining from her eyes. "Fascinating? Really, Spock?" She laughed harder, proper laughter this time, full of delight now instead of tinged with sadness. "Oh, my Spock, k'diwa. I do love you."

"And I you." The words came over his lips faster than he had anticipated, and it almost startled him that he had said something on an impulse, not with consideration and determination. He had once almost said the words, but he was not sure if they would have come over his lips even if Jim had not interrupted him then. It almost felt like his emotional outbursts of anger as a child when he had not been able to restrain himself, or on the occasion Jim had triggered the same response, on pupose like he had found out later. Now, however, it was no negative emotion that had overwhelmed his reason, and he suddenly wondered why it should be so illogical to verbalize something he had felt for so long without shame and regret.

At once he felt Nyota still in his arms, her eyes wide as she stared at him, mouth open and a look on her face that wasn't easy to interpret. He watched as her face suddenly flushed, her cheeks turning a deep rose colour. "Spock…you…I…" she stammered before pressing her forehead to his, closing her eyes as if concentrating and pushing. Love, more intense than he had felt before from her came through, along with want, need, that shared feeling of possession and of being possessed…and a feeling of pride. Not as a mother would feel proud of a child, but as an equal who knew, who understood what barriers had been broken in that moment.

There were no words that needed to be spoken, nothing he could have added or needed to hear from her. It was all perfectly clear now, and he came to the understanding that, sometimes, _not_ understanding was a part of their relationship like any of the positive aspects.

He kissed her forehead briefly before he leaned back to look at her, one eyebrow slightly raised. "I believe we've just experienced our first – as they call it – lover's quarrel." And overcome it successfuly, even with an improvement.

"I do believe your statement is correct, Commander," Nyota chuckled, leaning back against his chest with her head tucked beneath his chin. She slipped her hand into his and brought them both to her temple, sighing as their mental link was re-established.

Smiling broadly she finished with "…the next lesson, I suppose, will be about make-up sex."

"I am always willing to learn," he replied softly before his lips found hers.

It was likely that misunderstandings would occur between them again, even fights; it was predestined to happen in a union between two different species, two completely different cultures. It was natural and logical in all its emotional aspects, neither bad nor good. It just _was_.

- Fin -

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